


Not Anymore

by OwnerOfAllTears



Series: Victoria Shelby [5]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Blood and Injury, Canon Death, Gen, Gun Violence, Murder, Regret, Revenge, Sorrow, Vendetta, this is dark okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:48:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28563807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwnerOfAllTears/pseuds/OwnerOfAllTears
Summary: This vendetta goes way beyond the Peaky Blinders
Series: Victoria Shelby [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802149
Kudos: 11





	Not Anymore

Quite some time had passed since Victoria last felt she could trust her family with her own safety. Back when she was an innocent young girl, still believing in fairy tales and seeing her family through a rose tinted lens, she thought no one would dare hurt her; not with the Shelby surname and her elders to hide behind. They owned the guns; they owned the coppers and half the bloody city. For a moment it seemed as if they were unstoppable, steadily climbing to the top. But now, they all had targets painted on their backs. And every single time this family got into trouble, blood had to be shed for the cause. 

Danny Whizz-Bang put his chest to the bullets to save Thomas from Billy Kimber. After him came Grace, who was too a victim of the Tommy’s ambition. Then Charlie, snatched right from under everyone’s noses without them noticing and almost paying for his father’s greed with his life. Half her family had been put through the noose, saved by mere seconds and a strike of luck from the drop.

And then John happened.

He was an open wound that would never stop hurting; especially because Victoria had been there when it happened. After the arrest, she moved in with Esme to help her with the kids and the house. When John was finally released, and bought his dream house, Vicky moved right in with them. She stood there in the doorstep when the bullets rained; she too stained her hands on her family’s blood. Victoria would never erase the memory of her crimson stained fingers trying to get a grip on the phone to ask for help; or how her voice quivered as she called for John’s eldest to keep the kids away from the windows. The pain of their departure with the Lees was like a coiling wire tightening around her heart.

The murder of her favourite brother, and the placing of her entire family in the way of danger once more, definitely marked the line where Vicky left behind her childhood and became a grown up woman. It didn’t matter she was just 16 years old. From now on, she was her own guardian. Her siblings had always said that war had forced children to grow up too fast for the cause.

Well, this brawl they had started with the Italians had turned into a war all right.

No one had the decency to tell her a word of what was exactly going on with the Changrettas, probably thinking that keeping her in the dark was the best way to ensure her safety. They didn’t even let her be in the family meeting before John’s funeral, pulling out the argument that they needed someone to keep an eye on the kids. But no one counted with Finn being unable to keep his mouth shut, and spilling the beans with just a little bit of pressure from his baby sister. In the fifteen minutes they spent together in the back alley once the meeting was over, Victoria had been given a fill briefing of what had occurred since Christmas Eve. Everyone knew the mafia was ruthless, and the biggest rule in the gang’s warfare was that there were no rules. Everything was valid, which meant that even though Finn and herself had nothing to do with the vendetta, they could still get caught in crossfire.

And Victoria wasn’t about to sit and wait for a damn Italian to kill her.

Deep down Vicky hoped that amid all the tragedy and turmoil, the family would once and for all notice her value and skills, and let her be more involved in the business, since this situation had become everyone’s concern. No one believed her when she said she had a really good aim with a handgun. But what no one knew either was that she had been stealing guns from coats and bedrooms and going to target practice in an abandoned warehouse near Uncle Charlie’s yard, where the sounds of industry covered the echoing of the bullets ricocheting on a steel plate she hung from the ceiling. Aged barely 12 she shot her first bullet, and three years later, she could probably give her siblings a run for their money.

Yet they decided to promote Finn, who had the concentration range of a grape, to fill in John’s position in the family, as if he could magically turn from a boy to a soldier, just by flipping a magic switch. Meanwhile Victoria was tasked with looking after the children, Finn included, and the house. Just as if she was a fucking free of charge housemaid.

Truth was the family had decided to keep her out of the situation thinking they were sparing her feelings. Deeming her too young to face what this vendetta implied, everyone thought poor Vicky would be scared shitless. But the only thing she felt was anger. A raging storm had been brewing inside her chest since the moment she screamed herself hoarse over her brother’s dead body. As she stared into the bonfire that had become his vardo, watching the bouquet of roses she laid down shrivelling up in the flames, Victoria could feel some of the fire seeping into her soul, uncontrollable and destructive. Never in her life had she harboured emotions like these before. They were consuming and terrifying, filling in every corner of her mind.

When Aberama Gold showed up with two dead wops in tow, she envied him. The dark hooded monster inside her head whispered menacing words in her ear, her hands fisting tightly around the air, wishing they were instead around a fucking Changretta’s neck. But her time would come; it didn’t matter how much her family tried to keep her sheltered.

Before this war was over, she would take down at least one herself. And no one could stop her.

~

The busy streets where the market was placed provided ample protection against lurking enemies, but little safety against running children. While the Blinders busied themselves with their plan of laying Arthur as bait, Victoria was still stuck at home looking after everyone, since they were too useless to do so themselves. They wouldn’t even let her help around in the shop, yet had saint Linda taking telephone bets. Charlie was starting to get fussy being locked up in Tommy’s bedroom all day, so every time Victoria went out to get the shopping done, she’d take him with her. Poor boy would go crazy when they were out, exposed to sounds and smells and objects he’d never seen in Arrow House. It seemed that in every stand he found something new catching his eye, and no matter how firmly Victoria kept a grip on his hand; every now and then the little rascal managed to slip away, closely chased by his aunt, her legs fuelled by the fear of having Tommy hang her by the thumbs. According to Polly, the market was well within their safe radio, and they didn’t need an escort to protect them. At least there they could afford the tranquillity of walking around without fear of feeling a gun barrel pressed against their backs.

That day the streets quickly emptied of people as the wind grew stronger and a thin drizzle poured from the pale grey clouds. Victoria tried to walk as fast as having a heavy basket on one hand and a kid perched on the hip allowed her. Charlie was falling asleep on her, exhausted from running after a stray dog, which only made it harder to keep him balanced. Her shoulders and back ached and she considered just sitting under a threshold for a moment to catch her breath. But the second she stopped moving, Victoria felt strange. A cold shiver spread down her spine, her hairs standing on edge as she perked up her ears. There wasn’t a sound in the air, not a person in sight, but she had long ago learned to trust her instincts. If she sensed trouble, then there was trouble coming.

Panic was forced to the back of her mind, her main focus now being ensuring her nephew’s safety. Running wasn’t an option, for even without the basket and the slippery streets, she’d never outrun an adult man, not with a child and high heels on. Up and down the street were only shops, very few of them open, and not a single person in sight. Pondering her options, Victoria rushed into the cake shop, since it was the place she knew best. The owners were an elder couple who would gift her sweets when she was little, and she had been playmates with their grandkids. Before the shop lady could even open her mouth, Victoria walked past the counter and shoved a handful of crumpled up bills into her hand.

_“You watch the kid. I’ll pick him up in 20. By order of the Peaky Blinders”_

Without further explanation, she laid Charlie down on top of some flour sacks in the back store, the child blissfully unaware of anything but his afternoon nap. With her back turned, she took a moment to check the gun she carried inside her clothes. It had never been fired, but perhaps that was about to change.

Her original plan had been to fetch a Blinder to escort Charlie and her back home safely, but her idea crumbled as soon as she exited the store. Ten steps away from the door, she heard the clicking of a gun right behind her. Her breath hitched in her throat, as the smell of tobacco mixed with male perfume and sweat reached her nose, and the cold metal pressed against the base of her skull.

_“Luca said no children, no civilians. But you are neither of those, signorina”_

His mocking laugh made Victoria’s blood boil. Her head screamed murder, yet the fear betrayed her body, making her knees tremble and her heart beat faster than a hummingbird, the thumping echoing in her ears. Not a sound left her lips as a gloved hand wrapped tightly around her arm, forcing her to turn around. The man behind the gun was young, his boyish features giving away his inexperienced age, probably the same as Finn’s. Victoria suspected he had strayed from the group and was acting on his own, for she doubted Luca Changretta would send a single man, who was clearly greener than grass, into the lion’s den without backup.

 _“It is harder to find you alone than stopping rain with the bare hands. But I’ve finally caught you. Mr. Changretta will be pleased to see you”_ The gun barrel was now pressed painfully against her ribs, right above her hammering heart _“Walk. And don’t try anything funny”_

Adrenaline coursed through her veins at the thought of being moved away from their safety zone. Fight or flight response immediately kicked in. Fleeing wasn’t an option, for she’d have a bullet between the eyes before she could even reach the street corner. And fleeing wouldn’t placate the burning hatred inside her either. It wouldn’t help her sleep better at night; it wouldn’t silence the dark monster inside her, and definitely wouldn’t avenge John.

Suddenly, it was as if the Devil himself was moving her body, and she was just a puppet having her strings pulled. Victoria raised her hands in surrender, and turned around to march down the dark alley she was being pushed into, followed closely by the Italian. Two steps ahead she pulled the gun from under her blouse.

What came next happened too fast.

Her body turning around, teeth gritted, feet braced on the floor. The first bullet aimed for his right hand, the second clean through the forehead, poor bastard didn’t even have time to scream. Warm, sticky droplets splashing onto her face, getting into her eyes and mouth. Somewhere, people started screaming. Thunder echoed in the distance. The handgun felt like a white hot iron in her hands, yet she wouldn’t let go of it. Victoria crumbled down, tearing her stockings and scratching her knees on the stones. Someone must have called the police, for at some point three coppers showed up in her line of vision. One escorted her out of the alley, while the others slid the body under some empty sacks to dispose of him later. The shop lady didn’t say a word as Vicky marched to the back store to pick up Charlie, eyes empty and a blank expression plastered onto her face. The gun hastily shoved into her pocket, the outline clearly visible through the fabric. Her brain barely registered the car ride back to Watery Lane, and she couldn’t hear a word of what the officer said to Polly above the deafening ringing of her ears. Her aunt tiptoed around her as if Vicky was a feral animal. The youngest Shelby slumped on the old rocking chair, a cup of steaming tea stuffed in her hands, her gaze fixed on the flames dancing on the hearth for what seemed like ages.

At some point someone must have called a family meeting, and the whispering of voices by the entrance broke the trance in which Vicky had submerged. Polly must have given them the shortened version of the story, for five minutes later Tommy bargained into the room, blocking her vision with his broad frame

_“I’ve told you a million fucking times to leave Charlie here, but you always do whatever the fuck you want, and you could have gotten my boy killed”_

His words barely stirred a reaction from her. Tommy should have felt lucky that she even stared at him while he spoke. Her complexion had paled considerably over the hours, and the dried up dark spots still dotted her face and clothes. But once more Tommy didn’t seem to notice anything but himself, and the nagging of his voice was quickly getting onto Vicky’s nerves

_“This is the exact fucking reason why we don’t let you get into business, because you think you are an adult but you are still a damn kid and-“_

Whatever else he wanted to say died in his throat as his baby sister did something completely unexpected; standing so abruptly she knocked over the chair, Victoria pushed Tommy against the wall, her gun pressing on the underside of his jaw. Time seemed to freeze as everyone stood rooted in their spots, fearing the smallest of noises would trigger her into doing something terrible

 _“Oh yes, I am a child. A fucking child who stood witness of John’s murder. A child who has to look after your kids, and Finn, and even you, because not even that you can do for yourself. Just a child, yet I keep having to look over my shoulder, because I never know when one of your godforsaken enemies are going to come and fill me up with lead. For you I am just a damn kid, but today I took down a wop, which is more than any of you fuckers has managed to do”_ Each word was like steam escaping from an overpressured boiler, and her outburst of anger faded as quickly as it had started. Her strength faltered, the gun dropping at her feet as her eyes filled with tears

 _“I am not a little girl. Not anymore. I stopped being a child the moment I had to kill a man because of you”_ Victoria turned in her heel and went to her bedroom, leaving behind her dumbfounded and speechless family, Tommy still leaning against the wall, feeling the ghost of the weapon against his chin.

Once alone, Victoria locked herself into her room, blocking the door with her old dresser. Shielded by the darkness of the night, she finally fell to her knees, dry sobs racking her body as trembling fingers tugged violently onto her blood stained clothes, ripping off the buttons and tearing at the seams until her pink blouse was just a pile of shredded fabric. Face and hands scrubbed raw with a dry towel, the sensitive skin stinging with the alcohol from the perfume she used to get the stench of gunpowder and death off her body.

The battered walls of her old bedroom felt oppressive, like they were closing on her. No matter how hard she gasped, it seemed that air just didn’t get into her lungs, blocked by the giant lump tightening her throat. The floor felt like it would crumble underneath her feet any second, sending her into a dark hole she would not be able to crawl out of. Victoria slammed her windows open, the window panes cracking with the strength they were pushed with. The night breeze felt freshening on her face, but did nothing to cool down her frantic thoughts.

If she closed her eyes, Vicky still felt the barrel burning against her ribcage like a ring of fire. She could still see that boy’s life spilling out on the stones, just like John’s. Now that adrenaline had cooled off, her actions were finally weighing down on her shoulders.

She had killed a man. It had been a survival instinct. It was either him or herself. She didn’t have a choice, but that didn’t make the situation any less atrocious.

It was gone. The dark evil monster inside her, the one controlling her actions, had faded away, along with her rage. Her judgment clear enough to understand that no amount of blood spilled or guns fired, not all the revenges in the world would bring John back: nor would it fill the emptiness in her heart. Victoria had hoped that the old ‘an eye for an eye’ would help her heal and find closure. But all it did was slicing a wound on her soul..

All she had dreamed off was being a worthy Blinder. But now, in the aftermath, she wanted nothing more than to stay away. She couldn’t be like them. She didn’t want to be like them. Never again she wanted to feel this type of sorrow, to feel like a monster. Yet she knew that, after this too had passed, once more she’d feel the monster taking over her body. She’d feel the burning in her heart. Victoria knew that the next time she stood in front of her enemies, or her family was in danger, her feelings would be pushed aside by something stronger than her. All she would see was red, all she would feel is a thirst nothing but revenge would placate.

Once you start it, you can’t stop it. She had seen it in Tommy, in Arthur, in John. She feared to see it in Finn. It terrified her to see it on her own reflection on the mirror someday. That little piece of humanity you can’t ever get back. She wasn’t sure she would feel entirely human again

Only one thing was sure. Victoria was not a child anymore


End file.
